The Mighty Quinn (16 page)

Quinn didn't know what Mr. Standers meant, but he wasn't going to ask for an explanation. By the look on Neally's face, she wasn't going to, either. Quinn knew he shouldn't talk until Neally did. She'd been chewed out by her dad, and when your buddies get in trouble in front of you, you let them make the next move. You wait for them to act like everything is fine.

Mr. Standers turned onto the street that led to the school. “I've graded Matt's papers, worked with his reading group, and done some one-on-one with him. He's academically bright, if somewhat rigid. When I compliment his work he's surprised and grateful, though he pretends not to be.” Mr. Standers sounded as if he were thinking out loud. “I don't think he often hears the kind of words he needs to hear.”

“What kind of words?” Quinn's curiosity overcame his sense of buddy-honor.

“Simply that,” Mr. Standers said. “Kind words.”

“There's Lily's mom, Mrs. L'Sotho.” Neally pointed to the school's main entrance, where a slender, tall African women stood. “I bet that's our line.”

“I'll drop you off here,” Mr. Standers said. “I'm meeting Ms. Blakeman in the faculty lot.”

“Do you need help carrying the stuff?”

“No, but thanks for the offer, Quinn.”

“I've seen my dad carry a tandem kayak all by himself, over his shoulder,” Neally bragged to Quinn as they exited the car. They joined Sam and Tay and the other students standing in line by the curb. It looked as if their entire class was there.

“Why is
she
here?” Quinn glanced at Ms. Barnes, who was pacing in front of the
No Parking Bus Loading Zone Only
sign.

“She can tell we're waiting for a bus,” Tay said.

“She can smell it,” Sam added, “like how rabid wolves can smell fear.”

“She's not our bus monitor,” Quinn groused. “Can't she find some sixth graders to torture?”

As if she'd heard Quinn's suggestion, Ms. Barnes raised her whistle and turned her attention to the playground, where a group of older students loitered by the chain-link fence.

SSSSSSSQQQQQQQQQQUUUUUUUURRRRRRK!

“Whose book pack is that by the gate?” Ms. Barnes strutted toward the fence.

“I love watching her hassle sixth graders,” Sam said.

“I love watching her hassle anyone but me,” Quinn said.

“Have you ever seen her from behind, when she's walking away from you?” Tay asked.

“I love it when she's walking away from me,” Sam said.

“Look,” Tay insisted. “She has the weirdest shape.”

Quinn studied Ms. Barne's retreating form. “Yeah, weird. She's not exactly fat ...”

“Groooooow-
tesque
!” Sam said gleefully. “Her head and shoulders and stomach are skinny, and then everything puffs out. I suspect there are mutant pear genes in her DNA.”

“It's all that marching,” Neally suggested. “Exercising a muscle makes it bigger.”

Lily, who was in line in front of Neally, clapped her hand over her mouth. Arturo and Janos turned toward the sound of Lily's muffled giggles. “
Da
!” Janos joined in the laughter, shrugging his shoulders at Arturo, as if to ask what they were all laughing about.

“She's big.” Arturo pretended to blow a whistle, and wiggled his hands by his hips. “
La Señora, nalgas grandes
.”

Janos' eyes swelled as big as cow pies. “
Da, da
!”

“How inspirational!” Neally pinched her nostrils, sounding like the counselor who came to class once a month to drone on about how different cultures are good and different drugs are bad. “Unity in diversity! We're all multilingual when it comes to dissing our fearless leaders.”

Tay “knew” it would rain. Ha!

Quinn shaded his eyes against the vivid rays of sunlight that sliced through the canopy of towering Douglas fir trees. It was a good thing that the bus driver had known where to go. Now that his class was there, Quinn thought about how easy it was to miss the turnoff to the Noble Woods Nature Preserve. How many times had his family driven past the big grove of trees, forgetting that a forty-acre nature preserve was behind it?

Quinn wandered about the parking lot while the adults got organized. The bus ride had been uneventful, except for Brandon getting pelted by wads of paper and even someone's pair of mittens when he wondered aloud where a person might go to the bathroom if a person—not him, but any random person—had to go to the bathroom. Brandon noted in his defense that even in the woods, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

A laminated map of the Noble Woods was posted on a bulletin board at the north corner of the parking lot. Quinn checked out the map, which had faded and was covered with water spots. He returned to the bus, where Ms. Blakeman and Mr. Standers were dividing large plastic leaf bags, gardening tools, and work gloves into three piles.

Lily's mother began separating the students into three groups, calling out names from a list Ms. Blakeman had given her. Mrs. L'Sotho's voice was high and melodic, like Lily's. She had the darkest, most radiant skin Quinn had ever seen, like the surface of a deep, cool, and mysterious pond. Is it possible to see your reflection in someone else's skin? Quinn wondered.

Mrs. L'Sotho called out his name, pronouncing it in two syllables. “Ka-winn? Ka-winn Andrews-Lee?”

Quinn waved his hand. Mrs. L'Sotho waved back and pointed toward a group of students standing by the front of the bus. “Ka-winn, you will be with Mr. Standers' group. This group is complete. Now I will call the names for Ms. Blakeman's group, and you will please wait over there.” Mrs. L'Sotho pointed toward a large oak tree by the park entrance trailhead.

“Ka-winn! Ka-winn!”

Quinn winced to hear Josh mimic Mrs. L'Sotho. He slumped toward the bus, thinking of something his father told him: be careful what you wish for because you might get it. Quinn had wanted to be in Mr.
Standers' group, but his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw that Josh and Matt were also in the group. He leveled his shoulders and tried to walk tall. What would Mickey do?
Look on the brighted side
.

There were three kids in his group that Quinn didn't know well: AnnaClaire, James, and Kristen. Quinn thought about what Neally's father had said: maybe, just maybe, he'd learn something interesting about them. All he knew so far was that they were three of the quietest kids in class. AnnaClaire always had her face in a book; James drew pictures of dinosaurs on all his papers, even spelling tests; Kristen hated to draw
anything
, and once had to stay after class when she'd refused to help color the elephant's tail for a wall mural their class had painted after their field trip to the zoo.

Looking on the
brighted
side, Arturo was in the group, and also Lily. Where was Janos? Who split up the Three Musketeers? Quinn spotted Janos in Mrs. L'Sotho's group. Janos looked like a lost puppy, slumped on the ground, holding his head in his hands, sitting between Neally and Tay, who were engaged in a spirited conversation. Quinn spotted Sam, who was in Ms. Blakeman's group, standing forlornly—yikes!—between Kelsey and Teena.

Click click, click click
.

“Fifth graders! Welcome to the Noble Woods Preserve.” Ms. Blakeman raised her hands overhead as if signaling a touchdown. “Your fearless leaders,”
she pointed to Mr. Standers and Mrs. L'Sotho, “have your project lists. We'll all start on the southwest trail. My group will go to the North Meadow; Mrs. L'Sotho's group will take the turnoff to Baker Rock; Mr. Standers' group will stop at the wetlands boardwalk and the Rock Creek bridge. All groups meet for lunch at North Meadow, eleven forty-five a.m. Fearless leaders, synchronize your watches.” Ms. Blakeman checked her watch, and her glasses slid down her nose and clattered to the parking lot. “Whoa!” She retrieved her glasses and straightened the frame. “Maybe if I super-glued 'em to my earlobes ...”

Click click, click click
.

“Everyone should have a trash bag and gloves. Your leaders have the tools for each group's task, which you'll begin as soon as you reach your destination. Fifth graders, ho!”

“Our ‘destination'?” Quinn watched Mrs. L'Sotho's group follow Ms. Blakeman's.

“Sounds important, doesn't it?” said Mr. Standers.

“What's our group gonna do?” AnnaClaire asked.

“We'll be removing an invasive, non-native plant from the boardwalk,” Mr. Standers explained. “That's the wooden part of the trail through a small wetlands area, by the bridge over Rock Creek. Also, we'll ... hey, Josh? Let's stay on the trail, so we don't trample the vegetation.”

Josh tugged at a vine curling around the base of a massive Douglas fir tree that stood like a sentinel at the side of the southwest trail. “What's an evasive plant?” Josh asked.

“Road kill for brains,” Matt muttered. “In-vasive. It's invading. And non-native means it's not from here, so it's not supposed to be here.” He smiled at Mr. Standers. “Right?”

“That's essentially correct, Matt.” Mr. Standers removed a field guide from his pocket. “Invasive, non-native species are those that are not natural to an area and are taking over habitat from the naturally occurring species.”

“My mother's not a native,” Kristen said solemnly. “She's from Minnesota.”

“Dude!” Josh looked at Kristen as if she had an X carved on her forehead. “Sorry, but your mom's gotta go.”

“Giant Reed Grass, here it is!” The students crowded around Mr. Standers, who showed them a picture in his
field guide of a tall, brown-gray grass with fluffy plumes. “Funny you should mention Minnesota, Kristen. Some botanists believe the Giant Reed Grass was introduced here from the Midwest, specifically the Minnesota River Valley.”

Kristen looked nervously around the group, as if she were about to apologize for something, Quinn thought. Then she saw the twinkle in Mr. Standers' eye, and her face relaxed.

“It's like feathers.” AnnaClaire ran her slim fingers over the picture Mr. Standers pointed to.

“Yes,” Mr. Standers said, “it's quite distinctive. Giant Reed Grass provides a good winter habitat for deer and rabbits. But it's invading the wetlands and meadows here, and crowding out the native ferns and grasses. Does everyone think they can recognize it?”

The students nodded enthusiastically and followed Mr. Standers up the southwest trail.

“Another assignment is to pick up trash along the way, and do a concentrated trash-sweep by the boardwalk and bridge. Remember, don't pick up anything unless you're wearing gloves, and even then, don't touch broken glass, sharp objects, or anything you can't identify.”

“Like Josh's brain?” Matt piped up from the end of the group. “I don't think any of us could identify that from a road kill blob if we saw it, so watch your step.”

Josh stuck out his tongue and slapped his palms to his head. “Anybody seen my brain? It looks like a squashed possum.” Josh spoke as if his mouth was filled with soggy spaghetti.

The rest of the group joined in with Matt's laughter. Even Quinn had to admit that it was a funny remark. He forced himself to produce a few feeble chuckles as he worked his way to the front of the group and followed Mr. Standers into the woods.